


Frozen in Time With You

by SOMETHINREAL



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Suicide, but it is also implicit, but it's implicit, no happy ending, nothing too graphic, wonwoo is dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 14:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13572564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMETHINREAL/pseuds/SOMETHINREAL
Summary: "You were the best person I've ever met," Wonwoo said, quiet, but powerful, meaningful, holding so much emotion that Mingyu could barely comprehend it all."That's pretty sad, then."





	Frozen in Time With You

**Author's Note:**

> I've based this entirely on the music video for Nell's 'the day before' which if you haven't listened, I really would recommend. It's a beautiful song and both the lyrics and video hold a deeper meaning that is really worth looking into. I kinda hate this but I got inspo at three in the morning and wanted to write some angst.

There was a rhythmic buzz in the room; perhaps the coffee machine in the kitchen, perhaps the world outside the windows, perhaps something that Mingyu couldn’t quite put his finger on— it didn’t matter. It was kind of quiet besides that, the only notable sounds being the gentle wind outside and the blood rushing through Mingyu’s ears. The sun was trickling through the floor to ceiling glass windows of their studio apartment. It was eight o’clock in the morning, mid-winter, the sun had just risen and was casting an orange glow to the room. It was warm in the room, but Mingyu still felt cold.

Wonwoo was across from him, quiet, as per usual. Mingyu now wished that he had spoken up about more things. They weren’t really talking, Mingyu was looking at Wonwoo but Wonwoo was looking right through Mingyu, eyes dull and dark, though his lips were curled into the tiniest smile. Mingyu didn’t know why he was smiling; it didn’t make sense. There was nothing to smile for. It was almost normal, the scene. Almost. There was something very off about the whole thing. 

Wonwoo had his fingers holding open a page in a book. He had just put down a pencil, finished with writing something that Mingyu couldn’t quite read yet, but he knew he would eventually. His eyes moved from Mingyu to the book, scanning the page slowly, much too slowly to be normal, then closed the book and slid it away. He poured himself a cup of coffee. Mingyu watched intently as he did; picked up the steaming tea-cup and sipped at it, no sugar, no cream, just like he always did. Wonwoo was impatient.

“This book was really good,” he said, eyes trailing to the copy, spine cracked and pages worn from being read countless times. Wonwoo’s book collection was large, but he had always found himself going back to his favourites and reading them until he wore through the pages. It was in his nature. 

“I’ve never read it,” Mingyu answered, though he knew Wonwoo knew. Mingyu didn’t read the same kind of things that Wonwoo did. 

“You don’t like reading my stuff, so I don’t know why I’m even bothering to tell you.” The smile had grown on Wonwoo’s lips, small, but still there. Mingyu smiled too. 

“What you read has never been my taste, does that make me evil?” The conversation seemed to flow naturally, like they always did, but there’s something forced that’s putting Mingyu off. 

They had always had a good relationship. They never fought, never argued, only ever about stupid little things like who left the jam jar open again or forgot to refill the toilet paper, but nothing too drastic. They had always been this way, so similar, yet so different all at once that they didn't need to fight. They had always worked around their differences, instead of through them. Maybe they should have worked through them, maybe Mingyu would have been able to see more if they had. 

Wonwoo and Mingyu’s relationship had been private, it had to be, solely for the fact that their world didn’t seem to like people like them. It was okay, though, they got used to it. They got used to sharing kisses in discreet places and showing affection in seemingly-platonic ways so that they weren’t questioned. It was tiring, though. Always putting up a front, never truly being yourself. Wonwoo had always handled that bit worse than Mingyu. 

Wonwoo was always a little different than Mingyu mentally. He liked to overanalyze and think too hard; maybe less wanting to and more he  _ couldn’t stop _ doing those things. Mingyu had always been lively, excitable, and Wonwoo was always quiet, reserved, too into his head to notice the things around him. He had his moments where he acted like Mingyu, but only ever around their friends. Mingyu always thought that it was because Wonwoo felt as though he had to. 

The static buzz came back after a few seconds of silence, or, Mingyu was more aware of it now that they weren’t talking. He looked at Wonwoo again, and again Wonwoo looked through him. 

“You were the best person I’ve ever met,” Wonwoo said, quiet, but powerful, meaningful, holding so much emotion that Mingyu could barely comprehend it all. He picked up the book again and ran his fingers over the cover. Mingyu scoffed, out of what, he wasn’t exactly sure. Most likely just to fill the silence. 

“That’s pretty sad, then.” Mingyu had never found himself a great person. He was a happy person, sure, loud, and friendly, but not a  _ good  _ person. A good person was one who helped out at animal shelters or donated money to charity, helped the elderly cross the street or took lost children to their parents. The closest thing Mingyu had ever done to any of that was buying the coffee for the person in line behind him (he’d done it once. And it was Wonwoo, but he hadn’t known that at the time), never anything exceptionally nice, or selfless, or any other adjective that closely resembled those. Mingyu was selfish to an extent, and he knew it. He cared about two people; himself and Wonwoo. If that made him a good person, he’d had the definition wrong his entire life. 

“You were always there for me. Always took care of me. Always brought me whatever I needed when I was too sad to get out of bed. I’m thankful for that,” he continued, sipping his coffee once more before placing it on the saucer, right next to the half eaten breakfast and wilting lilies. Mingyu tapped his foot under their dining room table, unsure of how to respond, then Wonwoo took his hand. His hands were cold against Mingyu’s, but featherlight, almost as if they weren’t there at all. Mingyu’s shoulders untensed at the touch; icy, but still welcoming.

“I feel like it’s my fault,” Mingyu said. His voice wavered as he spoke, unbeknownst to him, but he felt the tremble run through his body. Wonwoo kept staring forward at Mingyu-  _ through  _ Mingyu. 

“It’s not your fault. It’s my fault.” His voice almost sounded robotic, the way that it was so monotone. Mingyu could hardly pick up the hint of sadness in his tone. 

“But I  _ feel  _ like it’s my fault.” Mingyu watched Wonwoo put the book back on the table for the second time, which is when he realized that it was one that he had gotten Wonwoo, on a birthday or for Christmas or just out of the blue— he couldn’t remember, he _should_ have remembered, but he knew that it was one that meant a lot to Wonwoo. 

“It’s not your fault,” he repeated. Mingyu was unsure of who he was actually speaking to. “There’s nothing you can do to stop it, and I’m sorry because of that. I guess I’m the coward, right?” Wonwoo dropped Mingyu’s hand, the coldness of his fingers now replaced with the coldness of the air around them. Mingyu knew what came next. He watched as Wonwoo picked up the vile, small and glass and filled with something clear that Mingyu knew was bad. He had lived this too many times not to know what came next. Wonwoo poured it into his cup, swirling it once, twice, before lifting it up and looking at it inquisitively. He looked as though he was considering.

Wonwoo pressed the cup to his lips and drank it, swallowing audibly before placing the cup back to its saucer. A smile, again, graced his lips, this time sad, apologetic even. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “You couldn’t have stopped it.” Mingyu’s eyes burned with tears that he refused to let fall. He stared across at Wonwoo, silent. 

“I  _ wanted  _ to,” he breathed out after a minute or so. Wonwoo’s eyes had become droopy, blinking slowly, the smile never leaving his lips. 

“I don’t want you to be sad because of me. Please don’t blame yourself. Blame me.” His words drew together all in one, but Mingyu had listened to them enough to pick them up. “I’m sorry,” he said, third and final time. “I love you.” His head dropped, face twisting in a way that Mingyu had memorized at this point, before rolling back on his shoulders, breath coming out slowly, once, twice, then not at all. Mingyu looked away. He knew this too well. 

The buzzing had come back, which he now recognized at the thrum of a camera. He looked to it, the image that had been permanently ingrained in his mind shown tauntingly on the view finder, screaming  _ YOU COULDN’T SAVE HIM _ , at the top of its lungs. His teary eyes trailed back to the chair, Wonwoo’s chair, still as empty as it had been when they took him out of it. 

How many times had Mingyu done this? Tried to relive something he couldn’t change? Each time with a new set of responses, a new set of words that would never reach him. Mingyu did this more often than any sane person would. He didn’t know why he did it; it was useless. Wonwoo wasn’t coming back. Mingyu couldn’t save him. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're confused about what happened, basically, Wonwoo had recorded his suicide and left the video for Mingyu to find. Mingyu often sits and listens to the tape, speaking in response to the things that Wonwoo says, imagining what it would be like if he was there to stop it, even though it's a false sense of hope. He knows that he can't change what happened, and he blames himself even though Wonwoo tells him not to. Sitting and listening to the tape is his coping mechanism, even though it isn't very successful. There's no happy ending for them, not until years later when Mingyu moves on, if Mingyu moves on. Sorry.  
> come yell at me about it on my [twt](http://twitter.com/hfkyounghyun)


End file.
